The Disquiet
by River Edge
Summary: Years later, Avatar Aang returns to Republic City, and he has been gone too long this time. [Aang/Toph]
1. silence

**i. silence**

* * *

Whenever Avatar Aang falls in love, it is in a hurry.

Over the past couple of years he has been absent; the east has called him. Lately, disappearing is an art he's mastered in. The isolation is somewhat therapeutic, not to mention rare. However, Aang loves people, so he always returns home.

Eventually.

This time, he wonders if he has left it all a little too late.

Snow cuts through his flesh. He shudders, the unwelcoming bustle of Republic City thrusting him into a quick reality. The cold is worse than ever. And a man so in touch with nature, he can only interpret the weather as bad news. Wrapping his clothes tighter around him, he buries his chin into his scarf, and treads on.

It doesn't take long until people recognise him. Gossip spreads. People talk. Aang stays at a hotel he hasn't seen before; obviously new. His cheeks are red, nose pink, and he smiles, relieved to be in the warmth. The staff and guests stop short at the sight of him, and, well-mannered as always, Aang bows his head in respect.

'May I have a room, please?'

Aang insists he pays. His room is on the second floor, and it's a surprisingly decent view of the city. Opening the curtains wide, he presses his forehead against the glass; it won't stop snowing. In fact, it's so chilly, no children are out building snowmen, or playing. Those who are out are desperate to get inside.

On his desk is a newspaper. One of few conveniences the hotel generally offered. His eyes fall on the photograph across the first page, and the colour drains from his face. Aang blinks. His heart pauses, then goes erratic.

Lifting the newspaper, he stares at the beautiful photograph of his dear friend, Fire Lord Zuko, and his prior lover and closest friend, Katara; both standing together, happy, older, and––

––in love.

Marriage. Aang reads the headline, briefly glosses through the first few lines. Sighs, and lets the newspaper drop. Zuko and Katara. In love. Engaged. To be married in the summer. A small, uncertain smile reaches his lips.

Just how long has it been?

 **–**

Because he doesn't know where else to go, he heads for the Military Police headquarters. If there is anybody who would have stayed in one place, it would be Toph. Yet, as he enters the building, he's hit with a sense of uneasiness.

Initially, he is ignored. So engrossed in their work, officers don't notice him, let alone recognise him. Until, finally, a senior officer does a double take, and Aang is finally acknowledged. 'I'm sorry to disturb you; I understand you're all very busy.'

'The weather doesn't help. A lot of people getting trapped in the snow. I imagine you're here to see Chief Beifong?'

Aang smiles. 'That's right.'

'I'm afraid she's not in today. Might not be tomorrow, either.'

'What do you mean?' Aang laughs softly. 'Toph doesn't strike me as the type to have a day off.'

The officer raises a brow. 'You haven't heard?'

'Heard what?' Aang frowns, concerned. 'What's happened?'

'Uh, I'm afraid I am under strict orders not to tell anybody. I just thought you might know.'

'I don't,' Aang says quietly. 'Where is she?'

'I can't tell you that either.'

Aang exhales slowly. There's no point arguing. If Toph has given the order, Aang isn't going to abuse that. Still, she would never take the day off. And the confidentiality only makes him worry more. Maybe it's the expression on Aang's face, he isn't sure, but the officer takes pity and reveals Toph's location.

Just as long as Aang doesn't share this information, nor reveal who gave it to him.

'You have my word.'

And Aang has never broken a promise.

The city hospital. Aang panics. Widens his eyes, and immediately rushes out of headquarters, and towards the hospital. By this point, he can barely feel the icy winds. All he can think of is that Toph is in the hospital, Zuko and Katara are marrying, and what the _hell_ is happening?

Fortunately, due to his status, Aang isn't given much grief with trying to visit the Chief of Police. Even if she has specifically stated she won't accept visitors.

But this is Aang, and Aang is different, and she'll have to physically _throw him out_ if she doesn't want him.

Upon arriving to her room, Aang expects to find her resting in a hospital bed. Instead, Toph is on her feet, dressed properly, and ready to leave. Actually, she's so keen to escape, the two nearly collide into each other.

'Toph?'

It takes a moment for her to recognise that voice.

'Who told _you_?' She snaps.

Aang is affronted. 'Uh, what?'

'Never mind. What are you doing here?' She doesn't wait for an answer, but decides to walk past him.

Before she can escape, he gently rests a hand on her arm. 'I'm here to see you. I returned to Republic City this morning; wanted to see you, and I was told you'd be here.'

An emotion passes her expression; one he can't place. But it's similar to shame.

'Wasn't expecting you back.'

'Yeah,' he winces, 'Sorry. I figured I've been gone a while.'

Toph is about to make a remark. Pauses, changes her mind. 'Look, I've been trapped in this place for the past two days. Either follow me, or stay, I don't care; but I'm going.'

Of course Aang doesn't require much convincing. They escape the hospital together, and Toph appears relieved. He watches her, wondering why she was in there, and for _two_ days. Aang doesn't want to pressure her with questions. He knows how much Toph hates it when her privacy is invaded.

They walk through the snow. Toph doesn't seem to notice the freeze, and Aang has half a mind to share his coat with her. He studies her, as if the answers may be written across her face, but he can't decipher anything. So far, it's been a rushed, bizarre reunion, and if he doesn't start receiving answers, he'll go mad.

She doesn't take him to headquarters. Her apartment isn't too far away, and she glides her palm across the door, searching for the keyhole. Aang waits patiently for her to unlock it, before stepping inside behind her. It's warm, thankfully, but the room is bare. The walls plain, curtains wide open –– in fact, there aren't any curtains –– no pictures; nothing which Aang can rest his eyes on and appreciate.

But why would there be?

'D'you want something warm to drink?'

'Sure, thank you.'

'Great. Stove's right over there––' she points to her left, 'Excuse me a sec.'

She goes into what he presumes is her bedroom. Aang removes his coat, throwing it across a chair, before fiddling with the stove to get some warm brew going. Toph is gone a while, and he pours them both a drink, the scent soothing.

Finally, she reappears, exactly the same, but––

Aang tries to ignore the soreness around her eyes. As if she's been rubbing them mercilessly, hurting herself. It's an exhausted expression, the kind of retirement one possesses after a long cry.

His heart skips a beat, and he offers her the drink.

'Cold out,' he says. She takes the drink, turns away. Wise, he thinks. 'I understand if you don't want to tell me, but why were you at the hospital?' She shrugs, facing him slightly. Almost looking bored. 'Incident at work?'

'I guess,' she allows. 'Why'd you come back?'

It almost sounds like an accusation. He takes the brunt of it, 'I missed Republic City. I missed you guys. I heard the news, about Zuko and Katara?'

Toph chortles. 'Oh, yeah.'

'When did that happen?'

'Not long after you went away.' She shrugs again. 'I don't know much of the details.'

'And you?'

'Can't say much about me.'

A lie. Aang places his drink down. 'I think I might stay a while.'

'Good. We could do with an extra hand around here.'

He smiles, and a welcome from Toph is all the welcome he needs. 'I've missed you,' he tells her, and she considers responding; but something shadows her eyes, and she decides against it.

 **–**

From down the hall, Aang can hear him. Sokka has always walked heavily on his feet, yet with surprising elegance. The entire morning, Aang has been in the office Toph offered him at headquarters. Although he's desperate to work out in the field, he's happy to assist with the paperwork. What with the demand for emergency services currently, his help is desperately needed.

Sokka bursts into his office, arms outstretched, 'It's been _far_ too long!'

Grinning ear-to-ear, Aang jumps from his seat, and hurries over to embrace him. 'I sort of realised that,' he chuckles. 'I heard about Katara and Zuko.'

'Yeah… yeah,' Sokka smiles crookedly. 'You good?'

'Wh––Yes, of course! I'm really happy for them both.'

'You told them that yet?'

'Ah, no. I only got back yesterday.'

'I know. Toph said.'

Aang raises his brows. 'You've talked to her?'

Closing the door behind him, Sokka enters the office, and they both take a seat. 'Kinda. You know what she's like. But she told me you met her at the hospital.'

Hesitant, Aang tries to pick the appropriate words. 'How has Toph been?'

'Fine,' Sokka says, slowly. He squints, analysing Aang. 'How much do you _know_?'

'Nothing,' Aang breathes. 'It's all been a lot, really. I wasn't expecting so much to have changed. I only know she was at the hospital yesterday. We went back to her place afterwards, and it was as if we spoke about everything, except––'

And he remembers how she looked when she left her bedroom. Her eyes. This _absence_.

'Sokka,' and his voice comes out stern; determined. Sokka listens. 'Please tell me what she's been doing.'

'Working, mostly. Drawing.'

' _Drawing_?'

'Yeah, I know,' Sokka laughs. 'Despite the obvious, she's pretty decent at it. But that's just a recent thing. Lately, however, she has kept to herself. More so than usual.' They look at each other. Aang doesn't say a word. Silent. His gaze certain, but utterly transfixed in worry. Sokka sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. 'Shit.'

'Tell me what happened. I won't let her know.'

'I kn––yeah, I know you won't, mate. Just, I don't want you to get upset about it all, y'know?'

Aang swallows, bracing himself. 'I'll be okay.'

Briefly, Sokka goes vacant. Almost as if reminiscing. Wishing the responsibility weren't solely his own.

'Toph miscarried.'

It doesn't quite make sense at first.

Aang stares. Stares. Falls back, blinks, and, 'What?' His voice barely breaks through, because suddenly his mind conjures the hideous image of Toph, bloody, dreading the absolute _worst_. He breathes, or tries to anyway, whispers, ' _When_?'

'Two days ago. That's why she's been at the hospital.'

'Oh.'

'She lost a lot of blood.'

'Ah.'

'It's something she rather _insistently_ told me to keep to myself.' Sokka attempts a reassuring a smile, but it crumbles halfway. 'Don't worry, Aang. It _was_ quick. Unexpected, I'll tell you that much.'

'May I ask––' Aang has to, because he just _has_ to ask about anything but Toph, '––about the father?'

Sokka shrugs, uncaringly. 'I doubt he's bothered. I wouldn't know. Never met him. Toph gives the impression he just _passed through_.' He scrunches up his nose. 'No point asking about him, Aang. As far as everybody is concerned, there never was one.'

 **–**

Returning to her office, Toph doesn't sense Aang in the room until it's much too late.

She cracks a grin, 'If you were anybody else, Twinkle Toes, I'd have booted you out. And made sure it was _painful_.'

Aang can't resist. 'I would enjoy witnessing that.'

Passing him, she rounds her desk, distracted. 'Can I help?'

'Sokka paid a visit.'

She goes stiff. Aang finds that response odd, but doesn't ask. 'Cute.' Recovering, Toph sits on the edge of her desk, retrieves a folder and passes it over. 'Well, you're clearly here out of boredom. Here's some real work if you're up to it.'

Aang gladly accepts. 'Thanks.'

'It's just casual stuff. Don't get too excited.'

'Have you been all right?'

Admittedly, that question came out very abruptly. Toph's expression darkens slightly. She's so suspicious of him, he doesn't know if he should give her peace of mind, and let her know that he knows. For an uncomfortable amount of time, she is deadly silent, and he has a horrid feeling she's reading his mind.

To be honest, he wouldn't let it past her.

'Yes.'

He's not sure if her lie is a relief.

Aang cannot fathom the grief of losing a child. And, he really has no clue how Toph is dealing with the loss. Or, if she's dealing with it at all! Because Toph is the kind of proud fool who would push away feelings, especially the ugly ones, and she would push them so far away that they'd just sit and fester.

Until it's too much, and––

Aang is intimate with grief. He is all too aware of the repercussions.

Glancing at the documents, he reads away, conscious of Toph concentrating on his every movement. Aang finds it sweet how some of these missions are genuine rescue missions. A few elderly folk have got trapped in their homes due to the heavy snow, and need a little help just to get around.

That is a mission he will happily take.

'Join me?'

Toph looks at him as if he's insane. 'I have more important stuff to worry about.'

'Is this below you, Chief?'

There's something _daring_ in his voice.

'Fine,' she says, teeth gritted. She abandons the desk, and gestures to the exit, 'After you, princess.'

'I'm flattered you consider me Royalty, Toph.'

If she could roll her eyes, she _would_ in this moment.

 **–**

Aang is charming.

Not only are some elderly having the Chief of Police aid them from place-to-place, but the Avatar himself! Toph is a professional at heart, and manages to restrain from scowling at Aang's ridiculous comments. And he _seriously_ needs to stop praising the women's alleged good looks. He's hopeless.

But he loves it. Aang makes them smile, he makes them laugh, and he manages to make their day so much brighter. Aang helps them with shopping, carrying goods; he even prepares them tea, some warm bread and Toph can't quite believe she actually took this softie as a student once.

What makes it worse is when one of them says, 'You two _are_ a very handsome couple.'

Toph doesn't react physically. She remains standing, shoulders back, arms crossed. Aang, on the other hand, laughs out loud and looks at Toph for a response. He blushes. 'Eh, we're not together. This––this is my boss.'

Now Toph _does_ react at that. She pulls a face at him which is one of sheer confusion and _really? Your_ _ **boss**_ _?_

Rubbing the back of his head, Aang bashfully says to her afterwards, 'Sorry about that. I didn't know what to say, and––'

'Let's not.'

'Okay.'

Their duties are finished later that evening. Aang inhales sharply when they enter the chilly weather. Toph shudders, and it's a startling sight to see her look so _small_. Without hesitating, Aang shrugs off his coat, and places it over her shoulders.

'Here.'

Toph has half a mind to take it off, but her health gets the better of her, and she wraps it around her. Aang is much taller than she is so the coat drapes over her wonderfully. Grateful, Toph turns in his direction, 'Thanks,' and he's _sure_ there's a smile in her voice.

'Sure.' They walk along in silence for a minute. The moon is especially bright, and the snow has calmed down. Aang looks up, appreciating the midnight sky. 'Well, that was a job well done, wasn't it? You wanna do that again tomorrow?'

'Heh. I would, but I'm afraid I'm busy. Feel free to keep doing what you're doing, though. If anything, it puts us all in a positive image.'

'Anything to help you, Toph. You know that.'

'I take it you have a place to stay tonight?'

'Yeah, thank you.'

He watches her press her palms together. She's so cold, and he takes sympathy. Aang stops, reaches for her hands, and warms them up between his own. He uses his Firebending techniques, using his warmth as a heater of sorts.

'Better?'

'Uh-Huh.'

Aang smiles, looking down at her. 'You should wrap up more.'

'Thanks, mother. I'll note that.'

She sighs, the heat beginning to take effect. It travels from her hands, and spreads through the rest of her body. She shivers from the gradual rise in temperature, and Aang chuckles, finding her behaviour endearing.

'I'm pleased you're back,' she confesses.

'Oh,' he breathes, inching just a little closer. 'Me too.'

A second, two seconds….

'I should go.'

… three…

'Right.'

Reluctantly, Aang lets go of her hands. Toph braces herself for the freeze. 'See you soon,' and he leans down, kisses her cheek, and his breath comes out rushed.

Deciding not to read into his actions, Toph smiles briefly, before walking on ahead. Aang watches out for her, waits; waits until she's turned the corner, out of sight, and he's left in the twilit snow.


	2. chill

**ii. chill**

* * *

That evening, he writes a letter to Katara, and while his pen scribbles, he starts to realise the impact of his absence –– or lack, thereof. It makes him consider his own worth. What is the point in the Avatar's existence when the world is at peace? It's a bizarre feeling, when one's purpose is simply to fight. But Aang has never really adjusted after the war.

Snow has blown into the room. He slams the window shut, shudders, and draws the curtains. Looks back at the letter, and decides to give up for now. Whatever excuses he might have, whatever stories he has to tell; they can wait. After all, he has no idea where to begin. He wonders if Katara knows about the miscarriage, or if she's been just as oblivious.

Aang sleeps restlessly.

Tosses and turns, and his dreams are empty.

 **–**

Did they die as children? If Aang had never met Katara and Sokka, would they be the better for it? Once Lord Ozai was down, none of them were the same. So close during the war, they all dispersed and hurriedly went their separate ways. As if being near to each other was too much of a reminder. Their childhood is what hurts most.

It is good to be of service. The weather continues to be harsh, and Aang obediently follows orders. Helping civilians, old and young, seems the main priority at the moment. And he doesn't mind. Some of the other officers help as well, and it's fun. At times, Aang is even asked to display his Airbending techniques, to which he obliges.

The cold does not suit him.

He catches the chill effortlessly. Snotty-nosed, runny eyes, and coughing, he returns to headquarters with a heavier head than before. Aang is teased for this, and it's nice that the officers feel they have that liberty with him. He grins at their remarks, rubbing his eyes dry.

The paperwork isn't too difficult, but spending the rest of the day with his head _down_ doesn't help. Every now and again, Aang has to grab an emergency tissue, lest he humiliate himself and disgust those around him. He almost misses the east; it's warm, _hot_ sunshine, desert lands, a different place, a calmer place with less frenzy.

He is interrupted when an officer says Chief Beifong wishes to see him. Aang stands, and he is led not to her office, but one of the interrogation rooms. He hasn't been in one before so excitement swells up in him. To his surprise, there is somebody being interrogated. Aang watches him through the mirror, before absentmindedly turning to Toph.

'You wanted to see me?'

'I hear you've got the sniffles, Twinks.'

Aang blushes a bit. 'Maybe.'

She finds this very amusing. 'Should wrap up more.' Aang raises a brow at her reference to the previous night. 'Thought you might find this interesting. This _loser_ has been causing problems –– theft, mainly –– and we managed to get him. _Finally_. You ever questioned a criminal before?'

'Uh, not that I recall.'

'Great! This'll be your first. Don't worry. We'll be right here. Unless you need somebody to hold your hand.'

'I have a hunch I can manage.'

Toph twitches a smile, and then gestures to the doorway to her right. 'Through there. My colleague will meet you, and he'll give you instructions on what to do. We want to find out who else has been involved.'

Makes sense. Aang nods and opens the door. Like Toph said, an officer meets him on the side. The criminal's name is called Akio, twenty-three years of age; estranged from his family for some time; affiliated with a group which still remain a mystery. Hence the interrogating.

Aang enters the interrogation room confidently. He's conscious of the fact that Toph can sense his every move, and she will note everything he says. When he approaches the table, Akio looks up, and Aang can't help but smile. He _is_ young, and he has kind, blue eyes.

'Aren't you the Avatar?'

'That's right,' Aang sits opposite him. 'You're Akio. I just wanted to have a little chat.'

'Well, I've got nothing. Your friend tried that.'

'You mean the officer who just left? Actually, he didn't try at all. I've been given the pleasure to question you myself. Hey, I'll let you in on something.' Aang leans forward, and whispers, 'This is my first time doing this.'

Akio raises his brows. 'Seriously?'

'Mhmm.' Aang softens his expression, and actually takes sympathy. 'It must be tricky trying to make the right decisions. Especially when you're young. When I was a kid, I was very hurt about something––something which happened to me personally. Fortunately, I had loyal, good friends to ensure I didn't make any mistakes in my anger. I know you must be feeling lonely, that you just want to get on with life; but I want you to be reassured that I'm here for you. So, whatever you need to say, take your time.'

'Why would I tell you anything?'

Aang holds his gaze. 'That's up to you to decide. But I promise you, regardless, we'll keep you safe. Nobody can hurt you.'

For a while, Akio is silent. He watches Aang intensely, sizing him up, and Aang allows him to. There is only a six-year difference between them. Yet he feels so much older. He _is_ much older. Compared to this boy, Aang is ancient, and his wisdom goes back centuries.

Perhaps that's why Akio decides to open up.

As soon as he starts talking, Aang listens and doesn't interrupt.

'My father came home some days––a lot of days––and he was drunk. It was a sort of gradual thing. I don't know if my mum thought it'd all blow over, but she stuck with him. Even when he started, y'know––' he inhales, '––knocking her about the place. I was only small then. So, my mum made sure I was out of the way before he got home. I was sixteen when my sister was born. And I'd try to distract my dad from her and my mum––sometimes I fought back. But things got worse when my sister died.'

'I'm sorry.'

'She was only a baby. Pneumonia. And I thought things were shit before that, but everything sort of spiralled afterwards.' Akio goes quiet, eyes distant. 'I walked out; didn't have anybody, so––' he shrugs. 'I stole things, sure; looked out for myself. That was before I met…' he trails off, looks at Aang briefly. Then his expression contorts, and he leans over, pressing his forehead to the table. 'He looked after me. Fuck it, I didn't have anywhere else to go.'

Aang comes over, rests his hands on Akio's shoulders. 'I'm sorry. I––'

'My mum went crazy. After she lost her.' Raising his head, the boy sighs heavily. Exhausted. 'Can't stop thinking about her; she was so small. Too small.' Aang squeezes his shoulder.

'Thank you. The more you tell us, the closer we are to understanding what happened to you; who you've become involved with.'

'Am I in trouble?' He cracks, tears spilling from his eyes.

On cue, the door opens, and an officer gestures Aang to leave. He glances at Akio, who looks at him desperately for help. 'No,' he says, 'You aren't. I'll make sure of that.'

Aang is not met with congratulations. In fact, when he leaves the room, and comes face-to-face with Toph, he can't read her expression. But her voice is cold, like ice; sharp on her tongue. 'Resume your work,' she says, and there's no invitation for argument.

Without a word, Aang walks past her, eyes on her face, trying to decipher anything. But she's unusually stoic, and he's thrown with a feeling of despair. Had he made a mistake? Say something wrong? What had he done in order for Toph to treat him so coolly?

 **–**

He can't resume work. Toph must be mad to think he can, what with everything that has happened. By the end of the day, he's sore and tired and possibly dehydrated from the cold. However, he doesn't intend to clock out of work until he's checked if everything is okay.

Around evening, he boldly approaches her office door, and enters.

Only to have interrupted a meeting.

Two officers look at Aang in surprise, whereas Toph just looks irritated. 'Sorry,' Aang says, 'I just need to have a quick word with––'

'It's fine,' Toph says, standing. 'These two were leaving.'

Both officers escape the room abruptly, giving Aang a puzzled expression. Toph folds her arms, and waits for Aang to speak, which makes him uneasy. It's as if she is punishing him with silence. Which gives him all the more reason to ask what is going on.

Aang closes the door. But doesn't step any closer.

'I wanted to ask about Akio.'

'Who?'

'The young man I questioned earlier.'

'What do you want to know?'

'You're letting him go, right?'

Toph laughs. It's short. Humourless. 'That's not how it's done. We'll be holding onto him for a while; he has yet to offer us any valuable information. You didn't do too bad of a job, though. Bit too much touchy-feely going on. That's where you were––mm, _disappointing_.'

'I never said I was an expert at this, Toph.'

He stops. Because this is beginning to sound tense; like an argument, and he really doesn't want an argument.

'Just––he seems to have had a rough time. With his sister, especially.'

Toph does an amazing job at covering her emotions. But she slips; briefly. For the _slightest_ second. And all Aang can see is that. The slip. The second in which her eyes go wide, and agony rips her in two. Aang freezes. Because the image is gone as soon as it came.

How could he be so stupid?

Of _course_ this hits a personal spot. Toph, too, has lost.

This is close to home. Too close to home, but nobody can ever know, and his heart _breaks_ for her.

'I know.'

She turns her back on him then. Aang won't dare intrude. He lets her recover. Or, recover as best as she can. There is so much pride to protect. But it isn't easy to recover. Even if it's temporary. Aang swallows, breathes, takes a step towards her. Reconsiders, and presses his back to the door.

Now, he isn't sure whether to leave. Does she need space? Will she do something he would rather not witness? Aang realises that the years they have spent apart have developed them to the point of barely recognising each other. He watches, waits, breathes harshly.

And all he wants to do is cuddle her.

Wrap his arms around her body, and just _cuddle_ her. For as long as she needs to be held. To hold her tightly, so _tightly_ , pushed against his chest, for him to cling to her, and never let go. He wants to tell her–– _I know_. It's okay, and I know, and I'm here for you.

Talk to me about the pain.

Let me soothe the wound.

'Is that all you wanted to ask?'

Aang hesitates. Then, 'Yes.'

'You can go home, if you like. I know you're sick.'

'I––' _What about you?_ '––actually wanted to wait until you were finished.'

She faces him, recovered, but perhaps not. 'All right. I'm nearly done, anyway. You'll have to wait, though.' Toph can feel his relief, and she doesn't know if she's relieved as well.

 **–**

By the time her shift is over, Aang is waiting by the door; expectant, happy to see her, a question in his eyes. She gives him a brief acknowledgement before they leave together, and while he expects nothing to be resolved this evening, he can't help but feel nervous.


	3. sorry

**iii. sorry**

* * *

Closing the door quietly, he helps her out of her coat, and she _starts_ , unaccustomed to this manner of hospitality. But she lets him. His presence is heavy. Like weights pressed to her stomach, yet soft all the same. She thinks back to when she last felt this way, just for peace of mind that this is normal. However, there hasn't been another time.

He follows her further into the apartment.

'Thirsty?'

'Yes – let me.'

She lets him again. In a couple of minutes, she can smell the familiar aroma of Iroh's famous tea. If this were anybody else, she would be annoyed that somebody has invaded her cupboards for supplies. With Aang, it isn't so bad. His invasion isn't dangerous. In fact, she wouldn't even consider his actions _invasive_. Instead, it's familiar. That of a friend.

When Aang returns with two mugs of hot tea, it's as if his feet barely touch the floor. He has always had a light touch, but there's a sense of calmness in his movements; he may as well be floating. Toph has heard the stories of Airbenders managing to float – or, even _fly_. Once rid of all their attachments, when nothing in the world chains them down, they're liberated.

Toph considers that form of mentality to be a load of bullshit. Of course, her for, to be chained to the earth is _essential_ in order for her survival. Perhaps that is where they both differ; Aang would be free if the earth disappeared, whereas Toph would ultimately suffer.

'Here,' he passes the tea.

She accepts, 'You never said where you'd been while away.'

'Travelling, mostly. Visiting other countries, civilisations; new forms of Bending I haven't heard of before. Did you know people can Bend lava? That was a difficult one to grasp––' she wishes he would take a couple of steps back; he's so close to her, he _surrounds_ her, dominates the little space they share, '––what with me not being entirely confident with my Firebending.'

'Still?'

Aang tenses slightly. 'Y––yeah, still, Toph.' He sips at his tea. 'This is nice.'

'From my understanding, you struggled with it because you hurt Katara.'

'You know that?'

'I know a lot of things.'

'Well, I _did_ hurt her, but it's a hard habit to break. It doesn't necessarily have to do with Katara. Just my own people, all of my friends––they died because of Firebending. It's something I've never really been able to––'

'––forgive––'

'––overcome.'

They stop. Aang is surprised by her interruption, her _suggestion_ , and Toph can't help but find _his_ response disappointing. He takes a larger gulp of tea this time, uncertain whether to feel irritated or hurt.

'I forgive the Fire Nation.'

'If you say so.'

'I _do_ ,' Aang insists. 'If I didn't forgive them, then I wouldn't have asked Zuko to teach me––I wouldn't be friends with him! Forgiveness is exactly what I needed in order to move on. If I just sat around in my fury, then I wouldn't have won that war.'

Toph sighs, exhausted, and places her untouched tea down.

'Whatever. But if that's the case, then why're you so angry?'

'I'm _not_ ––' He inhales sharply. Pinches the bridge of his nose. 'I'm sorry. I… I don't know where that came from.'

'I think you know precisely.'

There's no victory in her voice. Not pity, either. Just a sadness Aang can't get his arms around. So, he breathes, and whispers gently, 'How have you been, during my absence?' He pretends to chuckle, 'It's funny really. We've been so engrossed in our work, you haven't actually told me why you were in the hospital.'

Just like that, the rooms goes cold.

Toph has gone tense. Completely tense, and there's a sense of fear in her eyes, as if asking _Why? What do you know?_ 'Nothing interesting.'

'I'm always interested in you.' He clears his throat, 'I––I mean, even if it wasn't interesting, I still want to know. I'm your friend, after all.'

For a while, she is silent and still; the colour drained from her face.

Then: 'Take a guess.'

'How can I? I have no idea,' he laughs, fakes it, and she glares at him.

'You're _lying_.'

His cheeks burn red. 'Toph––'

'Tell me. Right now. Tell me why I was in that fucking hospital.'

'I––But––'

He exhales, shaking. Drops his head, and knows this is a fight he can't win. Aang looks away. Whatever he says, she'll be furious with him, and he really wishes she wouldn't be. He wants to spend time with her, wants to be in her company without skipping over fragile details. Wants their friendship to work as smoothly as it did when they were children.

Children.

'I'm _so_ sorry.'

Finally, he can look at her, and nothing more needs to be said.

Her fury has turned ugly, because it is no longer directed at him. 'Fuck,' she breathes, and he gives her the dignity to turn away, just so he won't see her cry––even if it's brief, one significant minute in a long life. _Just so he won't see her break_. And that's fair, he thinks. He'll let her have that.

But the bruises, the blood, the agony. He wonders if what Toph endures is close to what he had. What he _has_. But for Toph, it must be complicated. He doesn't know if she genuinely wanted the child and that, initially, the miscarriage was a mere inconvenience for an inconvenience.

It shreds deeper than this, though. Toph may not have ever loved the child, not like a mother ought to, but it was still hers, and it was hers which she, herself, lost. Which she _failed_ to provide for. Which died in her protection. At least, that's the most Aang can assess of her feelings. The emotions which run to the very core of beyond his comprehension, and probably beyond hers too.

'Sorry about what happened today.'

'Shut up, Aang.'

But he can't. He can't stand, stare, watch, wait.

To see her this way hurts him _so much_. He takes a step over, and another; one more, and then he takes her small body in his arms and cuddles her to him. Back to his chest, Toph doesn't move; doesn't seem to react. It's like holding stone. But she doesn't refuse him either, and he wonders how long it's been since somebody has _held_ her. How long she's needed to be held.

How long it's taken her to admit to that. If ever.

'And I'm sorry I wasn't here for you.'

'I coped.'

She starts to struggle out of his embrace, and he releases her. And her absence creates a void in his chest; a significance is missing.

Recovered––or what she'd consider recovered––Toph faces him again. Her eyes are sore; he's only just noticed the black rings beneath them. But colour has returned to her face, and the secret is out.

'It was an accident.'

'I know,' he says softly. 'No fault of your own, though.'

She allows that to sink in, but doesn't believe it. 'Before you ask, I didn't tell him, and I haven't told him about the miscarriage either. I doubt he'd care.'

Aang feels a sense of protectiveness; like a _pang_. Sharp and demanding. 'That isn't your responsibility, Toph. Especially right now. You're the one who went through this, not him.' He takes a step closer, then reconsiders; takes a step back. 'It may take longer than you want for this to get easier.'

She notes how he doesn't say _for this to stop hurting_.

Because it never will. For both of them, the loss will never stop.

It just gets easier.

'Would you like me to leave?'

'No.'

Aang smiles. Abandons his tea. 'Then I'll stay.' He pauses. 'Hungry?'

Toph shrugs, 'Not really.'

'I'll make something. If you have the correct ingredients, it shouldn't take me to get something ready.'

Thankfully she does have the ingredients, and Aang makes them a soothing, comforting soup of spinach, noodles, a little broth and such. What he produces is simple, but there's a touch of tenderness put into the whole recipe; the offering itself. While he cooks, he happily talks, almost non-stop, about his ventures east.

Really, Toph is fine to just listen. After what's happened, she's tired of talking.

Aang tells her all about the time he accidentally ran into a robbery. Of course duty persisted, and he managed to capture each thug without trying. The city, afterwards, welcomed him with such warmth, they turned to him for reducing the crime rate for a couple of months. In fact, the crime rate went down so significantly, they even gave him the key to the city. Then he continued his travels, coming across a few non-Bending monks who taught him a few skills of meditating which Aang picked up on quickly.

And prayer.

Praying was a part of their meditation. To submit themselves.

It was an unusual, somewhat overwhelming experience for Aang. What with the war and the effects it had on him, he felt better; felt as if his actions, his mistakes as a child, the repercussions he suffered from could be forgiven. He could be guided by someone or something, and the world was suddenly a much brighter place.

He pours their soup. They sit down together, and although she doesn't eat very much, he notices the effects: there's more colour to her face, she's less tense, but still quiet. He understands. Toph isn't the most open of people. To tell Aang what happened is a lot, and Aang doesn't take that for granted.

'Will you be going away again?'

'Probably.'

'Oh.'

'You could come with me, if you wanted?'

She frowns. 'I don't think so.'

'It's okay. T––take your time, I––'

'Not every conversation we have has to be directed towards _that_.'

'I know.'

'… I don't want to go through that again, Aang.'

He doesn't say _you won't have to_.

'I just want to hear more from you. I feel like I've been babbling on for _hours_.'

'Yeah, pretty much.'

He laughs, and his chest feels warmer. 'Sorry. I guess I just get excited when talking to you. You've always been such a patient listener with me, so it's easy to, y'know, _talk_.'

'At the moment, I'd rather listen than talk.'

Toph moves, readjusting her position, and she winces slightly from the manoeuvre. He leans forward, and automatically rests a hand on her shoulder. 'Does it ever hurt? Physically, I mean.'

'What did I say about discussing this topic?'

'Sorry.'

Then she rests a hand on his knee, more for balance than anything, and it's all he is aware of.

'But yes, it does.'

Aang looks at her face, smiles a little. 'You've hid that well.'

'Like I have a choice?'

Her hand is still on his knee. And he's never been very good in these moments. What they mean, if they mean anything; does it matter, why does it matter––

'I had a boy.'

Aang's breath cuts short.

'Eighteen weeks.'

' _Toph_ ,' he exhales her name, like an apology, a confession; as if there is no other word in any language which can convey his desperation for her.

'Anyway––'

It's raining. Only now is he conscious of the _pitter patter_ , the _anyway_ , because they have to move the topic away from what is so forbidden, but a part of her wants to, _needs to_ , talk about it, and he would listen to her, listen and listen––and it all _hurts_. And it's all so unfair, so cruel, and how he wishes he could just––

'––thanks for the soup.'

'You barely had any.' He tries to smile. 'But you're welcome.'

He thinks she's about to move away, and he really doesn't want her to, but it's not up to him.

––her hand travels a little further up his thigh. She leans into him, and he wraps an arm around her, pressing his lips to her cheek. Lets her rest against him, whatever it takes; he'll do anything.

She turns her head just slightly, her cheek passing his, and she can feel a little stubble.

'I missed you,' his breath warms her lips.

Neither are entirely sure who closes the gap between them. Whether they had the choice to or not. But he stops thinking, and his mind goes blank, and his body is set on fire. For the first time in years, he is kissed, and for the first time in years, she isn't grasped in a hurry. Her hand on his thigh tightens, but the rest of her relaxes, cools into his embrace, the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his body.

Aang is surprisingly bold, or nervous, or too excited for his own good. Because he tilts himself to embrace her properly, threading his hand through her hair, his other hand caressing her back and she hesitates around him. This is a bizarre phenomenon for her to be placed in, and she's _sensitive_ , all too conscious of the fact he hasn't touched her––not really––and he won't unless she asks.

But then their kisses gradually turn more urgent, her fingers dig into his collar, pulling him roughly against her, and accidentally his palm passes her breast, and she gasps, hurled back to reality, and turns her head away. Shocked at the interruption, Aang needs a moment to recollect what's happened, _what he did_ _wrong_ , and then he immediately retreats––but only slightly, not wanting to abandon her.

'Did I hurt you?'

 _No_ , she wants to say. _No, it's not you, and I really want this, but I can't, I really, really can't do this_ ––

She moves away, stands to her feet, and leaves him staring up at her, face possessed with worry.

'I'm tired,' she allows. Is about to say something. Stops. Finally: 'You can stay over if you'd like. Good night.'

That is not an invitation to follow her, and he has no intention to.

Aang sighs heavily, and her bedroom door closes, and for most of the night, sleep is impossible to achieve. All he can think about is her, their kisses, _the things they said to each other_ , and he knows all too well she is the exact same.


End file.
